


The Lady Of The League

by ravenclaw_ramblings



Category: The Scarlet Pimpernel - All Media Types, The Scarlet Pimpernel - Wildhorn/Knighton
Genre: 18th Century, Armand St Just deserved better, F/M, French Revolution, Guillotine, How Do I Tag, I Tried, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, If you hate it I'm sorry, In-Laws, Isabelle Blakeney is badass, Marguerite Blakeney is a queen, No beta we die like French aristocrats in the 1790s, Percy Blakeney is wholesome, Siblings, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:55:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29158503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenclaw_ramblings/pseuds/ravenclaw_ramblings
Summary: Behind every good man, there is great woman.And this is her story.Lady Isabelle Blakeney finds herself drawn into the terror of the French Revolution as a member of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel. And she is not one to shy away from an adventure.(I suck at summaries, I know)
Relationships: Marguerite Blakeney/Percy Blakeney, Percy Blakeney & original female character
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	1. Characters And Cast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asongoficeandcj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asongoficeandcj/gifts).



> First of all, this chapter is just a fun little introduction to the characters and the actors I use to visualise them, it is not necessary to understand the story, please feel free to skip straight to the first chapter.
> 
> Second of all, and MOST IMPORTANTLY, I'd like to take this opportunity to formally dedicate this story to my friend Rosie or asongoficeandcj as she is known here, who has been so helpful and encouraging to me in the creation of this story. This one's for you, Queen.

**Isabelle Blakeney- Anya Taylor-Joy:**

_"Lady Isabelle Blakeney was a lovely young woman, not long past twenty, and held herself as a perfect picture of English grace. She shared her brother's golden hair and blue eyes, and other resemblances between the two were clear. However, though he held the stature of a giant among the courts, she was petite and delicate. Nonetheless, she stood proudly at the side of Armand St Just, with eyes full of joy, and a smile on her youthful face."_

**Percy Blakeney- Theo James:**

_"Sir Percy Blakeney, as the chronicles of the time inform us, was, in this year of grace 1792, still a year or two on the right side of thirty. Tall, above the average, even for an Englishman, broad-shouldered and massively built, he would have been called unusually good-looking, but for a certain lazy expression in his deep-set blue eyes, and that perpetual inane laugh which seemed to disfigure his strong, clearly-cut mouth."_ ('The Scarlet Pimpernel', Baroness Orczy) 

**Marguerite Blakeney- Jessica Brown Findlay:**

_"Marguerite Blakeney was then scarcely five-and-twenty, and her beauty was in its most dazzling stage. The large hat, with its undulating and waving plumes, threw a soft shadow across the classic brow with the aureole of auburn hair- free at the moment from any powder; the sweet childlike mouth, the straight chiselled nose, round chin and delicate throat, all seemed set off by the picturesque costume of the period."_ ('The Scarlet Pimpernel', Baroness Orczy) 

**Armand St Just- Timothee Chalamet:**

_"His cheeks were glowing, his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. He looked very young and very eager. Armand St. Just, the brother of Lady Blakeney, had something of the refined beauty of his lovely sister, but the features- though manly- had not the latent strength expressed in them which characterized every line of Marguerite's exquisite face. The forehead suggested a dreamer rather than a thinker, the blue-grey eyes were those of an idealist rather than of a man of action."_ (Baroness Orczy) 

**Citizen Chauvelin- Sam Reid:**

_"Chauvelin was then nearer forty than thirty- a clever, shrewd-looking personality, with a curious, fox-like expression in the deep, sunken eyes. He was the same stranger who, an hour or two previously, had joined Mr Jellyband in a friendly glass of wine."_ ('The Scarlet Pimpernel', Baroness Orczy) 


	2. A Wedding

England, 1792

The wedding of Sir Percival Blakeney, Baronet and Mademoiselle Marguerite St Just was a large affair. There were no expenses spared, and everything had been planned to perfection. If one looked around at the crowded venue, it would seem as though the whole English court had attended. This was, of course, entirely possible, as Sir Percy had become somewhat of a loved pet of that same court, and his company was highly enjoyed. The ceremony had been rather beautiful, and tears had been shed by some. Now, the guests had gathered in the ballroom of the Blakeney Manor and were now awaiting the arrival of the newlyweds.

As the great oak doors to that ballroom opened, an almost reverent hush swept the room. In walked the groom, a tall man of not quite thirty, built like a giant, but with a face so kindly you could not help but smile with him, the gold of his hair almost matching that of his wedding clothes, and his deep blue eyes shining with happiness. On his arm was his new wife, Marguerite, who was around five-and-twenty, with long, lustrous curls that cascaded down her back, and eyes that glittered in the bright light of the room. Her wedding dress was quite exquisite, and suited her figure perfectly, drawing jealous stares towards Blakeney, for he had stolen such a beauty all for himself. A little behind them walked Blakeney's own sister, accompanied by her new brother-in-law, looking a wonderfully complementary pair; the lady golden like a goddess, the young man with his dark hair and eyes. Both smiled amiably at the happiness of their now-joined family, and they seemed to enjoy each other's company rather well. 

Lady Isabelle Blakeney was a lovely young woman, not long past twenty, and held herself as a perfect picture of English grace. She shared her brother's golden hair and blue eyes, and other resemblances between the two were clear. However, though he held the stature of a giant among the courts, she was petite and delicate. Nonetheless, she stood proudly at the side of Armand St Just, with eyes full of joy, and a smile on her youthful face. It had become quite apparent to most who knew the siblings that, while Percival Blakeney's inheritance did not include brains, his sister's certainly did. She was, of course, as well educated as any polite young woman in high society could hope to be, but there was a certain cleverness to her, an understanding of the world that some never seem to find.

~~~

The chatter picked up once again. Drinks were poured, smiles filled the room, and soon, the groom himself stood to speak.

"I welcome you to England, m'dear. I am quite sure everyone will be just as charmed by you as I was." 

His speech was short, but full of nothing but love and admiration for his bride. 

With a wave of his hand, the music began. Gentlemen offered their arms and ladies accepted, and the many couples danced. While Sir Percy found himself surrounded by his closest friends, a small number of gentlemen with whom he was very close, his wife was with her brother, smiling and laughing with an easy air about her.

"If you will excuse me, boys," Sir Percy said with a smile, "I do believe I owe my sister at least a dance to thank her for her work in today's preparations."

~~~

"You are happy, then, brother?"

"I thought it was my job to care for you?" Isabelle simply raised an eyebrow, and her brother laughed good-naturedly. "Of course I am happy. And quite fortunate to have met such a woman as Marguerite."

"I'm glad to hear it." The smile on her face had been ever-present since the early morning, and only grew wider as she danced with her brother. "And now that my match is made, perhaps your own wedding party shall soon grace our halls."

"Perhaps, Percival." She circled him, just as the dance commanded. "When most of the lords and gentlemen of England cease to be idiots and fools, of course."

"Ah. Not so soon after all, then, I see," said Percy, failing to suppress a laugh.

"I wonder, should your attention not be on your new wife?"

"So eager to be rid of me, dear Isabelle?"

"Oh, if you only knew," she teased. "Now, go. Attend to your bride. It is your wedding day, after all!" With a smile, he placed a gentle kiss on her hand, and obeyed.

~~~

Soon after, Isabelle found herself on the arm of Lord Elton. The auburn-haired man was the youngest of Percy's gentleman friends, and she made it no secret that he was, in fact, her favourite of the group. The two shared a bond, and enjoyed each other's company, sharing the country's gossips and discussing almost any topic one could imagine.

"Can you believe it, Belle? Percy married, and to a Frenchwoman. I must say, it's not quite what I would have expected of him."

"I cannot say I am surprised, Elton. If you had seen the way he looked at her when they first met, you would understand. He adores Marguerite, and it is quite clear to see why." As she spoke, she found herself drawn to the sight of her sister-in-law, laughing freely with the guests in a way that not many dared to.

"A wild one, to be sure. She was an actress, was she not?"

"Oh, Elton, you should have seen her perform. She was quite wonderful. Percy and I returned to the theatre almost every night of our stay in Paris, mostly at his insistence. Though I cannot claim I was at all opposed to the idea." She took a sip from her glass as the gentleman laughed.

"And what of you, dear? Do you not plan to marry soon?" Isabelle laughed incredulously.

"What is it with you men, concerning yourselves in the matter of my marriage? Percy asked me the same thing not long ago. I should think you are all rather desperate to be rid of my company. Am I so much of a bore, my friend, that you wish to leave me upon the arm of a husband?"

"I could not bear to dream of it. I would miss our talks far too much. Where would I find my fun, if not from discussing the fine young gentlemen of the court with you?"

~~~

It was a shriek of laughter that drew Isabelle's attention away from her conversation, and towards a corner of the room, where she saw her brother-in-law, who was being pestered by the Ladies Digby and Llewellyn, and looked rather uncomfortable in their company.

"If you will excuse me, Elton, I fear I must rescue Armand. He has been left quite to the mercy of the vultures," she excused and made her way across the room. "Armand!" she called. "I fear have rather neglected you far too much. How are you finding our England so far?" Isabelle held out her hand, and, were it not for his good manners, Armand would have raced to take it. She could see the relief in his eyes at having been spared of another moment in the company of the ladies.

"Thank you. I was beginning to think I would not escape them," he said gratefully.

"Forgive me for not coming to you sooner, Armand. I could swear, those two are the only people I know who can gossip more than Elton can." She took another glass from a tray and offered it to him, and he accepted it, before practically finishing it in seconds. "I fear you may have to brave many more like them in your time here."

"If I can survive the two of them, I believe I can survive almost anything. I do not think it possible to fear anything more than I fear being left alone in their company again." Isabelle laughed, and offered a heartfelt agreement.

"Your sister looks beautiful, Armand. She certainly suits the attention."

"Yes. Although I cannot help but worry." She turned to Armand, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

"Why do you worry?" she asked, her voice full of concern. He glanced around the room, to the groups of women gathered at almost every part of the room.

"They haven't stopped staring at her."

"Well, yes, it is her wedding-"

"No, it is more than that." 

"They love her, Armand. That I can promise you. I learned to read these people long ago." 

"Then why do they watch her, like they are waiting every moment for her to make a mistake?"

"Because they wish to be like her." It was a simple statement, more of a fact than an opinion. 

"Isabelle..."

"Look at her. Marguerite is wild, and bold, and unafraid. She is everything that we English ladies are told we cannot be." She smiled gently, seeming almost lost in her thought. "They do not dislike her, Armand. They envy her freedom." The young woman's words were quiet, and thoughtful, and there was even some hint of wistfulness hiding behind her smile.

"And do you?" 

"Hmm?" It had been a simple enough question that St Just had asked, but

"You say it is her freedom that they are jealous of, but what of you? Do you feel the same?"

"I suppose..." Her voice trailed away from a moment, and her eyes fell to her hand, on which sat a ring, one that she was rarely seen without, which had belonged to her mother, Victoria. The ring had been a gift from Isabelle's late father to Victoria on their wedding day, made to match his own, which had been passed down, and now resided upon the hand of Percy, and carved into both was the Blakeney family crest; a small red flower. "I suppose that I have been far more fortunate than most. After our parents died, it was Percy who looked after me." As she spoke, she fondly recalled memories; Percy pretending to be angry with her, Percy comforting her when she was upset, Percy attempting to teach her to dance. "He refused to shape my life for me the way so many fathers do. He allowed me to make my own choices, to grow into the person I wanted to be. And..." She bit her lip. "And I am absolutely ruining your sister's wedding day, aren't I?" Armand laughed and shook his head, before offering his arm.

"I wonder then, Lady Blakeney, if you would care to dance with me?"

~~~

The guests had been celebrating for at least an hour when Lord Anthony Dewhurst finally arrived, and Percy took it upon himself to be the first to greet his friend.

"Lord, man, you look a mess! Whatever took you so long to arrive?" Before Dewhurst could begin to answer, Percy was speaking once again. "A drink, then, my good man?" 

"I am afraid I have not come to drink, Percy," he said simply. 

"Nonsense, man! Don't be ridiculous. It is my wedding, and I am telling you that you must have at least one drink-" 

"I'm serious, Percy," he hissed, and all trace of joviality fled the groom's face, and he pulled his friend aside, away from the celebration of the party. 

"What is it, Tony?" 

"The Marquis de St Cyr. He is dead." 

"What? How?" 

"Sent to the guillotine. And his whole family with him." 

"This cannot be true. We arranged safe passage from Paris for all of them. They should have been half way across the Channel by now!" 

"We were betrayed, Percy."

"Betrayed? And by whom, I ask you? Nobody knew of the details except for you and I, and Isabelle, but I know you would not dare suggest that my sister had a hand in this. And... And I suppose Marguerite knew..." 

"Percy-"

"But she wouldn't. Marguerite feels nothing but the deepest contempt for this new regime of terror that the French have the audacity to call freedom! You cannot mean to tell me that Marguerite, that my wife, would betray me like this?" 

"Percy, you have only known her for all of six weeks. I'm not sure that you truly know her as you believe you do. I am sure you can believe that do not wish to be the bearer of this news. But you have to know the truth." From his pocket, Dewhurst drew a small piece of paper, a letter, and gave it to Percy. 

"What is this?" 

"A letter from your wife to the Citizen Chauvelin. It seems his growing power has managed to creep its hold upon even the most unlikely of people." As Percy examined the letter, his heart fell. 

"Yes. This is Marguerite's hand. And her seal. But surely..." He paused for a moment to think. "Dewhurst. I want you to do something for me." 

"Anything." 

"I want you to write on the bottom of this letter, in French, thanking Marguerite for her help." His voice wavered a little, and he took a moment to re-compose himself. "Sign it with the Citizen's name, and give it to Jessup to deliver to her." As Lord Anthony turned to go, Percy looked him right in the eyes. "She will disavow the letter. And you will see that you are wrong about her."

As Percy waited, he was filled with anxieties. Surely Marguerite would not do this to him? When they had first met, everything had seemed so perfect. It was their third night watching her perform, and from almost nowhere, Isabelle had informed him that she had met Mademoiselle St Just's brother, Armand, earlier, and he had invited them to come and meet her after the performance. It had been a blissful evening, and he had found that the star of the Comedie Francaise was just as charming off the stage as on it, and somehow, she found him equally as pleasing. By the end of that week, they had shared their first kiss, and now, just more than six weeks later, here they were, celebrating their marriage. But still, he stood apart from these festivities, waiting to find out if his wife was as true as she claimed to be. He almost sighed in relief as he watched Jessup, the butler, approach Marguerite and offer the letter. And Percy waited for her to confirm his defence of her, to denounce the letter as nothing but lies and scandal. But instead, he watched as she read the letter. 

"A note from the groom, no doubt, telling us all to hurry up and let him enjoy his wedding night!" one of his friends, Ozzy joked. 

"No, no, it is a letter from an old friend."

"From Suzanne?" Armand asked, and Marguerite nodded, unfaltering in her smile and poise. 

"Yes. She simply wishes me well on my marriage, that is all." 

From across the room, Percy could feel his own heart breaking into two. The feeling of Dewhurst's hand on his shoulder did little to comfort him. 

"Percy, I am so sorry..." 

"No. There is no need for an apology from you. It is I who has been played for quite the fool, have I not?" He gestured to his butler, who came to him immediately. "Jess up. I believe it is getting rather late. I'm sure our guests are rather tired. See to it that they all leave safely, won't you?" 

As Jessup began ushering the wedding's attendants out, Isabelle and Armand made their way over, to say their goodnights to the new couple. Percy shook Armand's hand, while Marguerite embraced him. Isabelle offered another warm congratulations to her new sister-in-law, and then came to speak with her brother. 

"Percy." 

"Isabelle." Despite his pain, he offered the most sincere smile he could to her and held out his arms. With the guests gone and no reputation to uphold with only her family present, she raced to embrace him. 

"I am truly happy for you both, Perce," she said to him as she broke away. "And I will offer you my good mornings now, since I do not expect to see the two of you until at least tomorrow afternoon." And then she was gone. 

One thing had always been certain that day; that it would be a long night for Sir Percival Blakeney, Baronet. But now, however, it was to be a night that he could no longer spend with his wife. 


End file.
